Prologue
Carson
New Year’s Eve
This was probably theworst idea my best friend, Ezra Bardot, had ever had. And trust me, growing up, he’d had a lot of them. I looked around the crowded bar, wishing I had said no to him. This was way out of my comfort zone. Way, way, WAY out of it. There were guys dancing, guys kissing, and I was pretty sure if I dared to look in the dark corners, there might be some getting blowies and hand jobs. Not that I was judging, because that was fine. It just wasn’t for me.
“I can see your mind working, CC.” Ezra’s voice was in my ear as he started to reach for my coat, which I was clutching against my chest. “If you would just relax, you might be able to remove that stick from your ass.”
I glared at him. Easy for Ezra to say. He thrived in this environment. Ez was beautiful, with his big brown eyes framed with long dark lashes, perfectly styled auburn hair, and the cutest button nose. Plus, all those freckles on his face. It drove everyone crazy. Not just men. Woman, too.
“You tricked me,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“I did no such thing.” He blinked innocently at me. “I told you we were going out. To a bar.”
My eyes narrowed. “Not tothisbar.”
“You’re gay, I’m gay. Everyone in here is gay. What’s wrong with coming to a gay bar, boo?” Once again, Ezra reached for my coat and pried my fingers away from the zipper. “Jesus, it’s not like you’ve never been to one before. Why are you so uptight? If someone tries to suck your dick, CC, tell them no. Stranger danger and all that. When did you turn into this nervous asshole?”
I slapped his hands away. “I can remove my own jacket, thanks.”
It was the clothes underneath I didn’t want to show the world. The sheer shirt he somehow convinced me to wear, the glitter that sparkled all over my face and hair, the skintight jeans. It was like high school all over again. Ezra had always been a bad influence. Even if he was a fun one.
He had already removed his own jacket and was standing there waiting for me. Dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, red suspenders, and a tight black shirt that stopped right above his belly button, showing off his flat stomach. Ezra caught many eyes. As I let my gaze skim down his body, I noticed how tight and toned he was. My best friend was gorgeous. I was just meh.
“CC.” Ezra held out his hand. “You can’t keep your jacket on. It gets warm in here.” He wiggled his fingers.
“Fine.” I sighed, making a show of forcing down the zipper and ripping the sleeves down my arms. I tossed it at him. “Happy?”
He beamed up at me. “Very.” He rose to his toes to reach my ear. “You look hot, boo, so go with it. I’m going to put these away. Don’t move from this spot. We wouldn’t want you to get lost, would we?”
I folded my arms over my chest and tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt while I let my eyes move over the room. I should be back at my parents’ house, in my childhood room, staring up at the posters on my wall, or watching boring New Year’s Eve countdown shows with my mom and dad. I loved coming home for the holidays because I missed my family. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being a NASCAR driver and traveling all over the US, but it was nice to come back home to where I grew up.
“You look pissed. How do you expect to meet someone standing there like that?” Ezra appeared in my line of sight before hooking his arm through mine. “Come on. You look amazing because I’m fabulous and know how to work my magic. Let’s get some booze in you so you can unwind.”
I rolled my eyes as I followed my best friend. I wasn’t surprised when people stopped Ezra to say hello, drop a few air kisses here and there. He introduced me, but didn’t mention who I was, which I was thankful for, not that I cared, and then we were at the bar. We ordered; Ez a dirty martini, and me a beer before we managed to snag a booth.
“I’m doing this for you,” he told me as he sipped his drink. “I know you never really get to go out, being Mister NASCAR driver and all. You need to have a little fun.”
“I have plenty of fun. I’m worried that someone might recognize me.”
“Someone has a high opinion of himself, hmm?”
I scowled as I avoided his eyes. I didn’t, not really. Odds were, no one in this place knew who I was. I wasn’t as noticeable as Rand Shepard or as popular as Watson Brooks, but I had my own fans. People who proudly wore my shirts and my number on their back. Hell, last year someone had me sign their arm and had it tattooed on their body. That’s Earnhardt territory fandom right there. Not that I was comparing myself to the Intimidator because I wasn’t. He was the best. I’d be lucky to be a Kyle Larson or Joey Logano.
When I finally met his gaze, Ezra’s brows dipped.
“That’s not it,” I assured him. “I don’t want pictures.”
“You’re worried about social media.” Ezra knocked my knee under the table with the toe of his boot.
I flipped him the bird only to hear him chuckle. “I’ll just let them think that we’re a couple.”
The look of sheer surprise on his face alone was enough to make me laugh. We had never been a thing, Ezra and I, although there had been a brief moment in high school when I thought I had a tiny crush on him. We were friends, nothing more, even if he was sexy as hell.
“No.” He shook his head. “You’re not—”
“Your type?” I finished.
